


Evil Author Day Offerings 2020

by AuroraNova



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Babel Trek Open Project (Star Trek), Breaking Up & Staying Friends, Evil Author Day, Gen, M/M, Selected works from my fic graveyard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22636090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: It's Evil Author Day, which means I'm sharing some abandoned WIPs from my fic graveyard. Read at your own risk - there's a good chance these won't ever be finished. Each chapter is its own WIP. (Major character death warning is only for the last chapter.)
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Ezri Dax, Julian Bashir & Miles O'Brien, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 24
Kudos: 40





	1. In which DS9 is temporarily sentient

Deep Space Nine was curious.

This was highly irregular. As a Cardassian-built station, it should not have had the capacity for curiosity, nor any other type of awareness or thought processes. Cardassians distrusted artificial intelligence to an extent matched only by Klingons (though as a rule, neither species liked to think they had anything in common with the other) and never built technology they might later have reason to fear. The station’s designers would have been horrified to know it was presently sentient. 

Neither Deep Space Nine’s current owners, the Bajorans, or the Federation personnel with whom they worked, were aware that on this otherwise unremarkable afternoon the station quite suddenly came alive. That was just as well. The Federation hadn’t forgotten a tragic incident the previous century where one arguably self-aware starship destroyed another with all hands aboard. Captain Sisko would’ve been alarmed, and thus had his day off ruined, for no reason. DS9 wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

Strictly speaking, DS9 was a hybrid entity at the moment. Quite unbeknownst to everyone, it was hosting a wandering life form made of energy not yet detectable to most Alpha Quadrant species (except Organians, none of whom were in the area and all of whom would’ve been content to leave well enough alone if they had been). The energy life form imbued the physical station with itself as part of its ongoing quest to learn more about this galaxy. Having started its exploration in the Gamma Quadrant and finding Dominion space not at all to its liking, it had been pleased when it briefly inhabited a Ferengi trading ship and learned about the wormhole. It took the next ship, which happened to be a Starfleet science vessel, to the Alpha Quadrant. 

Shortly thereafter, Deep Space Nine was aware and curious. 

It also had no sense of privacy. This was not the station’s fault, as it had never been expected to access personal logs for its own edification and was thus not aware that doing so was considered a serious breach of etiquette. 

It wanted to understand. Preferably it sought to learn everything possible about itself, its inhabitants, visitors, and regional geopolitics. Of course, complete comprehension was not achievable, but it could get a fair way along the path, and to this end the station naturally accessed computer logs. All of them, personal, and official alike. 

Finding Chief O’Brien overworked at the moment, DS9 helpfully fused a minor relay via an overload. This caught the attention of a night-shift engineer, who then noticed the beginnings of a much bigger problem which prompt maintenance was able to prevent from spiraling out of control. The station was pleased to help O’Brien. It now realized that it owed a great deal of its current respectable repair to the chief, and in thanks, it managed to delay a reactor malfunction just long enough that he could finish talking with his wife and daughter who’d called from Bajor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically, Sentient!DS9 was supposed to play matchmaker for Julian and Garak.


	2. Abandoned Babel Trek Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this for Babel Trek with the idea of exploring a broken text UT and also explaining how Garak, when sentenced to six months' imprisonment, was out before Kasidy despite her starting earlier. (I guess you could say travel time since she wasn't serving time on DS9, but the real answer is the writers immediately forgot about Garak's jail stint.) Anyway, it never went anywhere, so here it is.

“What do you mean, everything’s in Cardassi?”

Sisko had thought the station was finally past this kind of malfunction. Maybe he’d been too optimistic. If this was another hidden Cardassian program… he sighed. Cardassians, their engineering, and their underhanded computer subroutines could beat down anyone’s hopes for the best. So, for that matter, could just about every interaction with Gul Dukat.

That recording of the final game of the Cestus Series was going to have to wait. Again.

“Have you tried using the computer, sir?” asked O’Brien on the other end of the comm.

“Not recently.” He’d been cooking, and then eating dinner with Jake. Well, if there was going to be another station crisis, at least he’d gotten a good meal first.

“Every bit of text on the station has reverted to Cardassi,” explained O’Brien. “It’s not just affecting Standard, either. Bajoran, Ferengi, Trill – every language we’ve tried goes right back to Cardassi.”

“Only written language?” As bad as that was, at least everyone could keep talking to each other. Sisko had been working on his Bajoran in his (limited) spare time. Major Kira’s overly polite face told him everything he needed to know about his pronunciation, and he’d rather not embarrass himself in front of anyone else if it could be helped.

“That’s right. It’s like the language subroutines have been overridden, but I don’t know how.”

“Or why,” said Sisko. Sure enough, when he tried to call up his text inbox, all he found was a screen full of Cardassi characters, grouped together in spirals which meant nothing to him. Were those translations, random phrases, or something altogether different?

“I can’t make heads or tails of the program if I can’t read anything, sir.” O’Brien sounded mighty disgruntled. Sisko didn’t blame him.

“Then I guess Odo is about to get a new job as a translator.”

* * *

“Fortunately, the medical tricorders run on their own systems,” said Bashir in the emergency staff meeting. “Meaning I can still read them for diagnostic purposes. The infirmary computer, however, is another story.” He frowned. “I’d hate to have someone with a serious illness or injury right now.”

Dax nodded. “It’s the same all over the station. A few people have padds which run independently, but every console and device tied in to the station computer is useless unless you read Cardassi. Even the graphs are reset. I couldn’t tell you if a level ten ion storm was three minutes away.”

“The _Defiant_ and runabouts remain unaffected,” said Worf. At this point, Sisko took his good news where he could get it.

“No docked ships have reported any problems, either,” said Kira. “But we can’t run this station from the outside.”

“And this could be the first step of someone’s plan.” Sisko spun his baseball around, thinking. Dukat was still his number-one suspect, but with the Dominion threat growing, DS9 was so strategically significant that half the quadrant had reasons to look for leverage. “Chief?”

O’Brien shook his head. “I still can’t tell you the first thing about what’s causing this. It’s got to be a computer program of some kind. Something to override any text-based UT, probably.”

“Or eliminate it altogether,” suggested Dax. “The computer is essentially a standard Starfleet program grafted on to what the Cardassians left, with some necessarily modifications.”

“Which makes it easier to remove subroutines,” agreed O’Brien.

When they had their text UT back, Sisko would be asking for proposals aimed to prevent this kind of thing happening again. He did not want his station computer to be so vulnerable. An overhaul was clearly in order.

“I presume I’ll be assisting Chief O’Brien until this is resolved?” asked Odo.

“You presume right,” said Sisko. “Delegate whatever you have to.”

The constable nodded. He hated delegating, but was far too professional to complain about it. Sisko had a good team.

“We can’t run Ops if we can’t read our consoles,” said Dax.

“I’ve been dealing with voice docking requests. It’s a mess.” This from Kira, who was also not good at delegating. Considering how long she’d been on duty that day, she wasn’t great at taking it easy during pregnancy, either, but Sisko was confident that between Bashir and O’Brien, she wouldn’t be allowed to overdo it too much.

“I know it’s a mess.” He also knew no one else would like his solution much. Except possibly Bashir, for reasons Sisko preferred not to examine too closely, but then again even the doctor’s friendship with the station’s tailor had suffered in the aftermath of attempted genocide. “That’s why I think we need Garak’s help.”

Worf, who would never be called the forgiving type, immediately protested, “He cannot be trusted.”

“I’m open to other suggestions,” replied Sisko. He’d have been thrilled if anybody had one.

Unfortunately, they did not. “That’s what I thought,” he said, as Worf’s glower took on a note of resignation. “So we don’t have much choice, do we?”

* * *

It was a dull day in the holding cell. They all were.

Bashir made an occasional appearance, though he quite obviously hadn’t granted forgiveness as yet and Garak wasn’t confident he ever would. It probably hadn’t helped that Garak would not even pretend to regret his actions, except to express his wish that they had not been necessary. The doctor still clung to his idealized version of the universe, wherein adhering to Federation morality somehow had the power to ensure military success and the continued enjoyment of his beloved freedoms. Garak could not fathom how that was supposed to work.

Ziyal, the dear girl, visited weekly. Before his incarceration Garak had taken it upon himself to tutor her in Cardassian history, since her father had failed at that task along with many others. The lessons continued in this new, disagreeable venue, and she was a bright student.

Otherwise, Garak remained alone and bored. So it was quite the delightful change of pace when Captain Sisko showed up in front of his holding cell.

He stood. “Good evening, Captain.”

“Garak.” Sisko did not look happy to be there. “We have a problem.”

This was intriguing indeed. “Oh? I’m sorry to hear that,” he lied. It was the most interesting thing to happen in four and a half months.

“Our universal text translator has been disabled somehow,” Sisko said. “Every word is now in Cardassi.”

Garak immediately saw the potential here. Sisko needed him, which meant Garak was in an excellent position to ask for concessions. Not too many, of course; Sisko would not be pushed too far, and it wouldn’t do to overplay his hand. Some recompense, however, could be extracted, and Garak knew what he wanted most.

“If you’re hoping I can read for you, Captain, I’m afraid that’s impossible in my current circumstances.” He said this matter-of-factly, without any pretense. Some people responded well to charades. Sisko was not one of them.

“That’s why Deputy Paran is going to release you into my custody, if you agree.”

Garak would agree, if for no other reason that breaking up the monotony of his confinement. However, there was the matter of concessions. “I do hope that my assistance won’t go unappreciated.”

Sisko was far too intelligent not to have seen that coming, and indeed did not look at all surprised. “Is it safe to assume you would consider a reduced sentence to be a reasonable expression of appreciation?”

“Certainly.”

“I’ll shorten it by one week to start,” said Sisko. “Anything beyond that will be determined by just how much help we need.”

Garak would’ve liked at least two weeks, but he’d take what he could get. He was very good at reading people. The ability had served him well countless times, and right now it enabled him to deduce that pushing the captain was likely to cause trouble, so one week it was. Maybe he’d get lucky and be needed for long enough to request a more generous reduction. If not, well, starving men didn’t refuse table scraps.

Deputy Paran lowered the forcefield and stepped forward with a slim device. “Wrist, please.” When Garak held out his left hand, she attached the device to his wrist. “Since you’re still in custody, you’re required to wear a monitor. Don’t even think about trying to disarm it. We’ll know.”

Garak had very little doubt he could in fact disarm it without her realizing. There was no benefit to doing so, however, so he simply nodded and said, “I understand.”

The station may have been in trouble, but for Garak it was the most refreshing change of pace to come along in months. He intended to enjoy it.


	3. In which Dukat is up to no good again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once I gave up on this as a longer story, I pulled the end off and edited it to stand alone as [Contraindication](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18670318), so I'm not posting that bit.

Dukat was up to something.

Sisko hadn’t yet worked out just what, but the gul’s look of self-satisfaction never meant anything good, as Major Kira had rightly pointed out in one of their earliest conversations. Unfortunately, the terms of the Bajoran-Cardassian treaty allowed Dukat to dock at DS9 for allegedly urgent repairs.

Quark alone was delighted, because Dukat’s crewmembers were purchasing drinks and playing dabo (the dabo girls were considerably less thrilled about this turn of events). Everyone else, like Sisko, was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sooner or later, with Dukat, it always did.

While the rest of the senior staff tried to figure out Dukat’s angle, Dr. Bashir remained unaware there were any Cardassians on the station aside from his lunch companion. He spent his morning engrossed in researching an obscure Bajoran mitochondrial condition for which there was a partially successful treatment but no cure, a problem he hoped to rectify; at the very least he intended to produce an entirely successful treatment which could be sustained for life. The first cases appeared only a ninety years ago, and he’d finally gotten old scans from those early patients. They were not very enlightening at first glance, but Bashir never stopped at mere first glances when he had a medical problem to solve.

The morning flew by, and before he knew it the computer informed him it was 1225 hours. Eager to hear Garak’s take on _The Odyssey_ , he set aside research for the time being and exited the infirmary onto the Promenade.

It was at this point he noticed several contingents of Cardassians were present. Fortunately as he was meeting Garak, who didn’t like encountering Cardassian military personnel but refused to give them the satisfaction of hiding in his shop, Dukat’s men favored Quark’s over the Replimat. Unfortunately, the Replimat line was longer than usual due to a large number of Bajorans looking to avoid Quark’s.

“Doctor.”

He peered around until he saw Garak sitting at their usual table with two meals in front of him. That solved the line problem. “Hello, Garak. I see you got here early.”

“I have many questions about Odysseus. It seemed prudent to ensure we didn’t spend our entire hour in line. You do like chicken pot pie, don’t you?”

Bashir did, though it wasn’t what he would’ve ordered that day if given the choice. Still, it beat waiting in line, so he sat down to chicken pot pie and icoberry torte for dessert. “Yes, thank you. So, what did you think?”

“I didn’t care for the gods.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“They were capricious and used as excuses for the human characters to avoid taking responsibility for their actions. Did your ancestors truly revere such unpleasant deities?”

“ _My_ ancestors didn’t, no,” said Bashir after swallowing a mouthful of pot pie. It was better than usual; he wondered if this was a new replicator pattern. “Other peoples’ did, thousands of years ago, and don’t try to tell me your distant forebears didn’t worship some kind of gods.”

“Not this kind. Hebitian gods were models to emulate. These,” Garak tapped his reader, “were children having tantrums, without any sense of responsibility whatsoever.”

Bashir couldn’t entirely refute the point. He’d always found the gods of Greco-Roman myth to be spiteful, mercurial, and generally unpleasant, which put him in the uncommon position of agreeing with Garak. Feeling the need to defend this seminal work of human literature, he said, “That’s because they’re an attempt by primitive societies to make sense of the world.”

“But wouldn’t they want to create a mythology with a competent king of the gods?” asked Garak. “Zeus is pathetically inept in the role.”

And thus it went for the rest of the hour. The Replimat’s regular lunch crowd was used to their spirited discussion, so when Bashir exclaimed, rather loudly, “How can you say Odysseus wasn’t clever?” not many people paid them mind.

* * *

Sisko was trying to puzzle out why Dukat had stayed in a limited area of the Promenade. For a man with a supposedly damaged ship, Dukat didn’t seem very concerned with repairs. If he hoped to bother Major Kira again, he’d be disappointed, as she was currently enjoying some well-earned leave on Bajor. She would undoubtedly consider herself fortunate if Dukat departed before she returned, which Sisko hoped would be the case for everyone’s sake.

He’d sent Dax to the Promenade to check on things and, with any luck, figure out why the gul was so intently prowling a certain section. (Odo hadn’t found anything suspicious, which only made the constable more suspicious.) She didn’t come back enlightened. “Nothing looks unusual with Dukat’s crew. I do think it’s odd that Garak barged into the infirmary to argue with Julian about _The Odyssey_ , though.”

O’Brien, who had until this point been quietly assigning routine maintenance tasks, snapped his head up. “Argue?”

“Something you’d like to share, Chief?” asked Sisko.

O’Brien reluctantly said, “I have it on good authority that Cardassians flirt by arguing, sir.” He looked like a man who very much wanted to be wrong (and Sisko didn’t blame him) but didn’t think he was.

Dax shrugged. She aimed for nonchalance, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “That’s one way to do it.”

Sisko began to suspect this would be one of those days where he questioned the wisdom of moving to command track. “Flirting. Garak is flirting with Dr. Bashir.”

“And Julian has been flirting back,” added Dax. “Without knowing, of course.”

“I hope it’s without knowing,” muttered O’Brien.

“Just how good is this authority, Chief?”

“Gilora Rejel,” came the discomforted reply.

The look on Dax’s face meant she thought there was an interesting story to be had and she wanted to hear it as soon as possible, but she wisely opted not to request it in Ops.

Meanwhile, in the infirmary, Dr. Bashir had no idea why Garak felt the need to march in laying out his complaints with Homer starting in medias res. Not because of the objection; Garak could and did object to a great number of things about human literature, and he undoubtedly even meant some of them. Interrupting Bashir’s work to do so, however, was a new and frankly unwelcome development.

“If you’d like to discuss this further, I’m free for lunch tomorrow,” he offered. Spending time with Garak was no hardship. He quite enjoyed it, actually, under usual circumstances.

It was as though he hadn’t even spoken. “And furthermore, this manner of writing robs the reader of valuable information required to properly appreciate the story from the outset. I really don’t know how you can defend it, Doctor.”

“Wait a minute. I never have enough information about what’s going on in Cardassian novels until the last chapter, so that’s not a fair complaint.” Belatedly, Bashir realized he was supposed to be getting Garak out of the infirmary so he could resume his research, not allowing himself to be drawn into a debate on the merits of books beginning in medias res. All he’d accomplished, it seemed, was to encourage Garak’s odd behavior.

“Don’t compare this to enigma tales. That’s something else entirely.”

He opened his mouth to say he wasn’t referring to enigma tales, then pulled himself together. “Garak, I am happy to continue this conversation, _later_. When I’m not on duty.”

At the word ‘duty,’ which was one of Garak’s favorites after ‘sacrifice,’ he seemed to acknowledge the problem. “Yes, of course. I will see you this evening, Doctor.” With that, he turned around and left the infirmary as though he’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

“Well, that was peculiar,” Bashir said to himself. Still, trying to understand Garak was a long-term project, and he had that mitochondrial condition to unravel, so he put the odd occurrence out of his mind as best he could and returned to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dukat was supposed to be releasing something into the air to basically turn Garak, hormonally, into a horny teenager. I never figured it out.


	4. Obligatory Julian/Ezri Breakup Fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all have to write a 'Julian and Ezri break up' fic at some point, right? I envisioned this one as perhaps being in the same universe as [The Tune Without the Words](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18258449).

Ezri spends a week thinking it all over, and when she realizes that’s a quarter of their relationship, well, there’s her answer.

“Julian,” she says one evening, “we need to talk.”

The look he gives her is tired and resigned. “Is this the _it’s not you, it’s me_ talk or the _let’s still be friends_ talk?”

She wonders when he grew so cynical, and it hurts. Everything about this is painful, but she knows they have to face it to move on. “If you knew this wasn’t working, why didn’t you say so?”

He has the grace to look a bit chagrined. “I thought I could be happy with you. Wait, that sounds horrible. I mean…”

Ezri puts a hand on his arm, because she understands, and she doesn’t want him to feel guilty as if he’s used her. If he did, it’s no more than she used him. Probably less. “It’s okay, Julian. Really. We care about each other. We were staring death in the face. It’s perfectly natural.”

“And now?” he asks, lost.

“Now we each have to go find who we are.” And, as much as she might like to, they can’t do that together.

There’s a reason joined Trill aren’t supposed to make major life decisions in the first year. Joinings take time to settle. Even Jadzia spent the first months solemn and serene before she embraced fun wholeheartedly, and she had initiate training. Ezri has realized, in the past week and a half, that she needed to come to DS9 to figure herself out, but staying won’t do her any favors. Her life is starting to look like she’s taken Jadzia’s and made a few adjustments to call it her own even though it obviously isn’t. It would be easy and comfortable to remain. It would also be the worst course she could take for herself.

And Julian – he barely had time to start coming to terms with the augmentations he’d spent years resenting when the war started and brought the process to a grinding halt. He should see a professional about that. It can’t be Ezri. Add to it the changes of war, and how his final action against Sloan weighs on him, and Ezri isn’t the only one who needs to relearn who she is.

Julian sighs. “We can’t sort ourselves out together.”

“No. But I would like us to stay friends.”

“So would I,” he says. “Very much. Are you leaving DS9?”

“I’m putting in for another posting.” Anywhere that wasn’t Jadzia’s will do. “Coming here wasn’t a mistake. Staying would be.”

“I wish…” he trailed off, looking out the window. That usually means he’s stopped to overthink his words. “Well, I wish a lot of things were different, and this is one of them.”

Ezri agrees and disagrees, but there’s no reason to hurt him any more by telling him she only wishes their relationship could work on some levels. Deep down, she knows that she can be friends with Julian, but he’ll always be Jadzia’s first. That’s fine for friendship. It’s not a recipe for romance.

“We can’t live in a world of wishes,” she says.

“Write?”

“Of course.” That much she can promise, because she truly does value him. Whatever else he can’t be, he is her friend.

* * *

After a few weeks during which everyone remarks on how amicably her breakup with Julian unfolded, Ezri gets her new orders. She’s going to Starbase 184 as the junior counselor. Honestly, it’s a relief not to be solely responsible for everyone’s mental health; Ben’s faith in her was touching but added a great deal of pressure. DS9 is going to be in the capable hands of a Starfleet veteran, so everyone will be fine.

She’s packing when Julian stops by. “You might be onto something,” he says. “About a new assignment.”

“It’s not healthy to stay here if you’re going to try to recapture the past.”

“Right. I’ve been looking into what options might be available. No decisions yet, but I’m thinking about it.”

Ezri is glad. She cares about Julian and wants him to be happy, to find peace with himself and the universe. She also wants to recommend he talk with the new station counselor, but doesn’t, because it will ruin the easy mood. Maybe she’ll mention it in a letter.

* * *

_Later on, when Julian has realized his career prospects are nonexistent and gotten leave to join the Cardassian relief effort:_

She doesn’t talk with Julian very often. He gets very little subspace time on Cardassia, and Ezri suspects he uses most of it with Miles O’Brien. They write letters. Infrequently at first, while they work out exactly what kind of long-distance friendship they’re going to have, but they eventually settle on a comfortable rhythm.

So she’s surprised when he contacts her over subspace. “Julian, how are you?”

“Everything’s going well here. The new hospital is due to open next month, which will make my job much easier. But I called to talk about your zhian’tara.”

In her last letter, she asked if he might be able to come to Starbase 184 for the ritual. She’s made some friends here, but the zhian’tara is a very personal rite, and she’s not comfortable asking just anyone to host her past selves. Kira and Jake have already agreed to participate, and to Ezri’s surprise, her brother Janel volunteered. He’s going to take Verad, who Ezri feels needs to be part of her zhian’tara.

Her closest friend here, Greth, has agreed to host Jadzia, and while it’s strange to think of Greth’s Andorian body with Jadzia’s personality, she’s grateful. The immediate predecessor is always the most challenging personality to meet, and she couldn’t expect anyone who knew Jadzia to volunteer their body for this.

“If you can’t make it, you didn’t have to call,” she says.

“No, that’s not it. I haven’t taken leave in nine months, so I can make it. I called to see if you need someone for Joran.”

Ezri tears up in relief. She hasn’t been able to bring herself to make that request of anyone. ‘Would you let the personality of a murderer borrow your body?’ is a lot to ask, and she’s been avoiding it.

“Are you offering?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” The words don’t seem enough, somehow. The sense of dread about her zhian’tara is at least halved by Julian’s generous offer.

“That’s what friends are for,” he says, even though they both know he’s going above and beyond. Ezri realizes, too, that all traces of post-breakup awkwardness are gone, and she’s glad of it.

Julian has evidently given this a great deal of thought. “I’ll want to be restrained prior to the transfer. Class threes.”

Ezri briefly wonders if he actually needs class three restraints, or if he’s just being cautious. Class two is standard for most races, humans and Trill included. She doesn’t ask. She’s busy considering if subconsciously she hadn’t asked anyone else to host Joran because she knew Julian was likely to offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Julian & Ezri were supposed to have a heart-to-heart after her zhian'tara, wherein she encourages him to pursue a life on Cardassia with Garak, not stay in Starfleet and be miserable just because he thinks he needs to prove an Augment can be a Starfleet officer.


	5. A Private Universe AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one won't make sense if you haven't read the [Private Universe Snapshots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511374/chapters/41708192), wherein Garak has a contingency plan for Julian if the Dominion wins the war.

The Federation Alliance is about to lose the Dominion War.

Julian knows because he overheard two of his non-critical patients talking while he was pulling a piece of bulkhead out of Ensign Li’s abdomen. Li could recover, though the injury will require several days of treatments for the damage to her small intestine – days Julian doesn’t think any of them have.

The remaining allied ships are in full retreat back to DS9. It’s theoretically possible that a last stand will somehow save the day, but Julian doesn’t think that will happen. The alliance is outnumbered and outgunned now that the Breen have joined with the Dominion. Barring another intervention from the wormhole aliens, Dominion victory is fait accompli, and anyone he can save today will probably be dead tomorrow.

He stabilizes Li, starts the first round of burn treatments on Crewman Lebedev, and is about to commence treating Ensign Taurik’s broken leg when he hears the transporter. It’s never a good sign when someone is so badly injured they have to be beamed in on emergency power. Taurik’s leg will have to wait until he checks his new patient and adjusts triage accordingly.

When Miles materializes, Julian’s stomach enters freefall. This is bad. The back of Miles’ head is bleeding from a massive wound, he’s missing a foot, and that’s just the beginning. Catastrophic internal injuries: lungs, heart, brain, spine, bleeding in seven places.

Julian can’t fix this. Any one of the injuries, yes, but not all of them at once. He won’t give up without a fight, though, and automatically calls for oxygen.

Miles isn’t fooled. “Julian… that contingency plan.”

“I’m not giving up!” he says, even as he can see that death is inevitable. The concussive trauma is simply more than a human body can handle; Miles must’ve been near an explosion.

No, no, no. He couldn’t save Jadzia and now Miles… it’s too much. He refuses to accept it and hooks up the oxygen so he can focus on the impending cardiac arrest.

Miles coughs blood. “I know I won’t make it.” He reaches out weakly. “Julian. Contingency plan.”

Julian has a sudden epiphany. Miles is beyond help, so he’s useless as a doctor. As a friend, however, he can still offer some comfort. It’s not enough, but it will have to do, and he at the very least will give Miles whatever solace he can.

He puts his hand on Miles’s shoulder gingerly. “I’ll do everything I can.”

“Good.”

Miles is satisfied. Julian is not. How often do people say those words and it comes to nothing? It’s not forceful enough. Certainly not when his best friend is dying and he can’t do a damn thing to save his life. So he tries again. “I’ll save your family or die trying, Miles. I promise.”

After another racking cough, Miles manages to say, “Couldn’t have asked for a better friend. And I don’t mean just for this.” He spasms in pain, and Julian should be getting an analgesic but he’s afraid that would mean leaving Miles to die alone while Nurse Morrison is seeing to another recent transport, so he stays.

“Neither could I,” he says.

“Keiko, Molly, Yoshi… tell them I love them.”

“I will.”

Having taken care of his last request, Miles loses consciousness. Julian remains kneeling beside him for another thirty-seven seconds until he dies, not as his doctor but as his friend.

Then, when Miles is gone, he stands and returns to his professional duties once more. “Computer, note time of death for Chief Miles O’Brien.”

He barely hears the acknowledgement. He can’t. Right now he has to be Dr. Bashir and care for patients, so just as he’s been pushing aside all his fear for Garak, he forces this loss away from the forefront of his mind. It’s not gone – it will never be gone – but he can function. Dr. Bashir has a job to do. Julian can mourn later.

If the Dominion gives them any time for grieving.

* * *

They’re almost back to the station when Julian is able to leave the infirmary and make his way to the bridge. Every step of the way he sees more damage to the _Defiant_ and starts to think it’s a wonder the ship can still fly at all. Weapons, he picks up from overheard conversations, are completely non-operational, and it sounds like the rest of the ship isn’t far behind.

On the bridge, everyone turns to look at him, hopeful until they see his expression. Julian never has been any good at hiding his emotions.

“Doctor?” asks Captain Sisko.

“Chief O’Brien’s injuries were too extensive.” He tries to remain as professional as possible and only falls a little bit short. “There was nothing I could do for him.”

The mood, already somber, worsens. Ezri’s entire face falls. Worf looks even stonier than usual. The captain looks deeply, deeply sad. As for Julian, he’s holding on by focusing on his responsibilities.

“Captain, I’d like to accompany you when you inform Keiko.”

Sisko nods. “Of course, Doctor. I think that would be for the best.”

That’s how Julian finds himself walking beside his captain to the O’Brien family quarters, not long after the _Defiant_ docks. He isn’t neglecting his patients; most of the casualties were treatable, and a few immediately fatal. (He has four death certificates to fill out.) There’s no one heading to the infirmary for post-acute care that Dr. Girani can’t handle without him.

“Doctor,” says Sisko, “I’m sorry for your loss, as well. I can only imagine how difficult this is for you.”

Almost a year ago, Julian was unable to save one of his closest friends. Today it was the other. He’ll have to face that at some point, if he lives long enough. Right now he’s busy thinking about how to fulfill his promise to Miles. There’s a slim chance the captain might let him take Keiko and the kids off to safety – Sisko’s soft spot for children is common knowledge – but dereliction of duty isn’t the kind of subject one casually brings up with their commanding officer. Julian decides to wait until after they speak with Keiko. Besides, he’s still working out his plans. There are two. One for if he gets approval or at least a blind eye, and the other for if he doesn’t.

He’s going either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a whole idea on how this could go as an alternate timeline, and then possibly tie back together with the rest of my series, but it's been close to a year and I haven't finished it, so... *shrugs*


End file.
